The carwash at sundown. Asphalt wet and gleaming in the amber light. The candy smell of a sugary soap. The Dead Man sweeps up. Sweeps suds and water into the drains. Boots and trousers wet. Evening chill beginning to sting his bare arms. Despite that, mosquitoes. Bloodsuckers. One customer who has just pulled in, left his car running, argues with Archie, the manager. Archie who just wants to close and smoke a cigarette, free. Archie smiles at the customer who is half begging, half telling him to wash his car despite the time. It’s not even late, the customer says. It’s before closing, I’m here before closing. I made it in time. Archie tells him the wash will take three quarters of an hour, that they are already closing. Points to the Dead Man sweeping. They are washing up. What’s there to wash, it’s a car wash, the customer says. Archie smiles. The place is clean enough. Wash my car, the customer says. Wash it. Start now and you’ll be done sooner. Archie meets the Dead Man’s eyes. The Dead Man sweeping soapy water into the drains. Working quickly so he can cycle home before it gets dark and the cool sets in. Sir, we are closing. Washing your car takes us beyond closing. Archie who is about to explain how time works. Sir nothing, the customer says. He turns the ignition off, takes the keys from the car and tries to put them in Archie’s hands. Archie who is still smiling. The Dead Man sweeps the little that is left to sweep. Puts the broom away. He hears Archie agree to the terms of the wash and take the car keys. Tells the customer they will start right away and to come inside to organise payment. Archie slaps the keys on the Dead Man’s chest then leads the customer into the office. The Dead Man starts the car and drives it into the stall. Unwinds the hose again. Good boy, Dead Man. Archie inside upselling with a smile. The ultimate package. The premium package. Or the super. The super covers it all, deep clean and hand detailing. Paint protection. You name it. Everything by hand.

…

Tristan Foster is a writer from Sydney, Australia. He is the author of two books, the short story collection Letter to the Author of the Letter to the Father and 926 Years with Kyle Coma-Thompson. Midnight Grotesques, with Michelle Lynn Dyrness, is forthcoming from Sublunary Editions.